Happier With You
by Winchester Mythology
Summary: One shot tag to 12x16: Ladies Drink Free. "Wait...we're in separate rooms?" The Winchesters may be getting a rare three star hotel experience, but that doesn't mean they can break old habits in one night.


**So, I was supposed to be writing Fractured (don't worry, the next chapter is on its way), but a conversation about Sam's comment of 'Wait..we're in separate rooms?' in Ladies Drink Free sparked the idea for this little number. So, Harpspn this one's for you: thank you for the inspiration!**

 **Enjoy!**

oOo

The world beyond the window had darkened, small lights twinkling softly behind the balcony railings and soft transparent net curtains. There was no rush and roar of traffic, no drunken yelling from the room next door, no humming and strange knocking sound of the fridge.

Just absolute calm.

Sam sat on the firm white couch – the first one in a hotel room that wasn't stained with mysteries he didn't want to know the origins of – enjoying the blissful quiet. The larger of Mick's lore volumes was sat balanced in his lap, the other on the sleek black coffee table in front of him. He hadn't even got his laptop out; for once, he felt like disconnecting from the world, even if it was just for a little bit. There was nothing new in his database anyway that would help with their case and he had been eager to throw himself into the Englishman's texts.

When Mick had first announced that they had separate suites, he'd been horrified, crestfallen. Staying in a room without Dean (outside of the bunker) was a foreign feeling and not a welcome one.

And yet, Sam had to admit that he was secretly pleased to be able to pour through the new research uninterrupted without his big brother ridiculing him every five minutes or filling the room with the stench of whatever fried mess he'd brought back from the nearest burger joint. Instead, the flowers on the coffee table perfumed the air with the delicate scent of spring, despite the winter frost outside.

The youngest Winchester was so engrossed in his reading that he visibly jumped when something banged bodily against the door, a muffled curse reaching his ears. Giving a small shake of his head, he put the book to one side on the sofa and got up just as the would-be intruder thumped on the door. He pulled it open, grinning at his brother, holding up his key card.

"Secure entry, Dean," he smirked as his brother scowled without malice at him.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme funky smelling motels any day," he grumbled as he stalked in and flopped down on Sam's bed. Sam glared at him, letting the door shut on its own.

"Dude! Get your shoes off my bed!"

Dean looked up at him innocently. "What? S'not like you've cared any other time!"

"That's 'cause it's usually safer to leave your boots on in the places we stay."

Dean rolled his eyes but reached down and tugged his worn boots off, dropping them haphazardly off the side of the bed. Sam breathed out a huff and went back to the sofa, picking up the volume he was reading, ignoring the fact that Dean was unwrapping the small square chocolate that had been left on his pillow.

"You don't like your room then?"

Dean was silent for a moment, long enough for Sam to divert his attention back to his brother. His brother groaned dramatically and settled back on the pillows.

"I hate it."

"What? Why?"

"It's friggin' amazing! I swear I'm gonna be ruined by this," Dean started, talking around the chocolate in his mouth, his face a picture of pleasurable torture. "I was happy with the funky smells, the weird stains, the dodgy food and now we've seen this. We've never stayed somewhere like this, Sammy! There's bottles of things in the bathroom that I don't even know what they are!"

"You tried them though, didn't you?" Sam's lips quirked.

"Damned straight. You should smell me! Wanna smell me?" Dean sat up right. Sam pulled a face, one eyebrow rising as he crinkled his nose.

"No, Dean, I don't wanna smell you."

"Your loss; I smell awesome," Dean sighed, settling back once again and closing his eyes, his arms crossed behind his head. "Stuff smells even better than your secret shampoo."

"Good, take some home; then you won't need to keep stealin' mine!" Sam grumbled, picking up his coffee mug. He took a long mouthful, enjoying the fact that the room offered real coffee. "So, if you like it, why're you in mine?"

Dean shrugged. "I got bored. And I'm on the floor above."

The statement needed no explanation: not for Sam. When Mick had booked the rooms at the Wild Elk Lodge, he hadn't specified joining suites or even ones on the same floor. They'd all ended up apart. And the brothers had accepted without complaint. They would never tell him their need to be near each other; he would never understand. When they were apart, bad things happened. It had been worse recently – not that they had discussed it or even admitted it. But ever since they'd gotten out of the government facility, having been ripped apart for months, the need to be around each other and know that the other brother was safe was almost an unspoken compulsion for the both of them.

Sam hadn't been surprised by Dean's appearance; if he was honest with himself, he had been planning on going up to see his big brother once he'd finished reading, just to check in, like they always did. It settled them both, bringing them comfort and reassurance.

"Want to hear what the Brits have been trying out?" Sam asked.

"I already said I'd got bored; I don't need you to puke your new nerdy-fetish all over me."

"It's not–" Sam stopped, closing his mouth and huffing, his lips pursed. He wasn't going to rise to it. The more he reacted to Dean's use of 'fetish', the more Dean used it. Some things hadn't changed since they were kids.

He turned back to the book, allowing himself to get absorbed back in the lore. The silence lasted for all of two minutes. The TV hanging above the fireplace to his left suddenly lit up the room, the artificial light glaring down onto the yellowing pages in his lap. He slid his gaze up, shaking his head when he saw Dean's choice. Yet another hospital soap. Dean had moped for days when Dr Sexy had been cancelled; he had yet to find another guilty pleasure he could replace it with; one that he could watch in front of his brother in any case.

Lapsing into contented silence, the brothers kept each other company without filling the room with needless chatter. Sam would break from his reading reverie at times when he heard Dean scoff or make comments on the drama unfolding on the TV, a small smile dancing across his lips. His heartbeat thrummed slowly in his chest, the tension in his muscles easing from his shoulders with each passing moment.

A yawn stretched his jaws wide, filling his eyes with water. Rubbing at them with one hand, he glanced at the time on his phone: 3.04am. He hadn't realised how late it had got. The TV was still on, but he'd blocked out its sound ages ago; a talent he'd developed over the years. Glancing over at Dean, he saw his brother sprawled out on his bed, one arm lying on the mattress beside him, the other folded across his stomach which rose and fell softly with each breath. His head was tipped to his right, half his face lost in the fluff of the pillow, his mouth open.

 _So much for sleeping in three-star luxury._

Sam closed the book quietly, sliding it onto the coffee table before standing, feeling his spine crack having sat in the same position for too long. Padding softly over to the bed, he leaned over and picked up the TV remote, turning it off, bathing the room in silence. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the individual candy wrappers that littered the covers; Dean had worked his way through the handfuls he'd swiped from the bowl in the lobby. Dumping them in the trash can, he moved across the room.

Rummaging in the wardrobe, he pulled out one of the extra blankets, its material soft beneath his fingers as he walked back to his brother and draped it over him. Yawning again, he shuffled to the door, checking it was locked before turning off the lights. Darkness stretched through the room, the soft glow of the fairy lights outside seeping in.

Sam headed back to the sofa, lying down on it, his head propped on the arm closest to the bed, his legs hanging off the other end. He'd slept on a lot worse. Crossing his arms, Sam shifted and wriggled, settling himself before turning his head to the side and letting his body relax. Within minutes, he was asleep.

The night drew on with little sound penetrating the room. The shadows got blacker, cloaking the room as the moon waned, creeping its way across the sky, diving behind clouds and emerging at random. Dean stretched, waking slowly. He opened his eyes blearily; he hadn't meant to fall asleep. His own room had been too quiet, even with the TV on. His feet had carried him down to Sam's room before he'd consciously thought about going there. The older Winchester hadn't intended to stay.

Why were the lights off?

Blinking in the darkness, he sat up, touching the soft blanket that covered him. Squinting, he spotted a dark shape spread out across the sofa. Of course Sam hadn't woken him. Idiot. They could both fall asleep practically anywhere and Sam would never even consider kicking him off the bed; he'd squidge himself onto a sofa without a second thought. Dean felt his heart warm.

Swinging his legs silently off the bed, Dean grabbed one of the pillows – God, he'd never find pillows that soft ever again – and the blanket, treading lightly across the room. He fanned out the blanket, placing it gently over his baby brother's sleeping form. Tucking it in around the edges, he knew he wouldn't wake Sam. As gently as he could, Dean lifted Sam's head and slid the pillow underneath him, knowing if he didn't, Sam would suffer with a stiff neck for days. Not that he'd complain about it, but Dean would know and he'd feel guilty.

"Night, Sammy," he whispered, brushing the stray strands of hair from his little brother's forehead, as he'd done when he was small. The older Winchester moved back to the bed, slipping beneath the covers. He lay there, listening to the soft sound of Sam's breathing. It was comforting, reassuring. The rooms may have been amazing, but he was happier here: with his brother.

Always with his brother.

oOo

 **Short and sweet! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!**


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